


Burglary + Gun

by violetvaria



Series: Stable AU [12]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Psychological Drama, References to Depression, Robbery, Stable AU, Stuffed Toys, Therapy, childhood grief, dad!Jack, gun - Freeform, lots of physical affection, not james positive, teen!Mac
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-20 11:59:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19376266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetvaria/pseuds/violetvaria
Summary: Mac skips school for the first time in his life. Of course, this is the day burglars break into the house.And Mac remembers why he hates guns.Chapter 2 added: Jack's reaction in the week following the burglary~~~set in dickgrysvn's Stablehands + Stable Homes AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GeekyNightOwl1997](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeekyNightOwl1997/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Stablehands + Stable Homes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17294171) by [dickgrysvn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dickgrysvn/pseuds/dickgrysvn). 



> Thanks, as always, to the gracious and talented dickgrysvn for creating and sharing this AU! It is essential to read her story [**Stablehands + Stable Homes**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17294171), preferably eight or ten or forty-seven times in a row.
> 
> Thanks to GeekyNightOwl1997 for this request: “Do you think you could write a one shot of this AU, where Jack is gone and Mac is left alone in the house and somebody breaks in…and Mac’s first thought is the gun, but can’t use it, because he promised Jack he wouldn’t use it unless Jack’s home. So, Mac first texts Jack about the intruder knowing he’ll come home. And when Jack arrives he finds Mac passed out and a whole bunch of stuff stolen?”  
> ~ I hope this satisfies!
> 
> WARNINGS: implied childhood trauma and grief, non-graphic use of a gun near a child, mentions of therapy, implied unspecified mild depression or anxiety, guilt and self-blame
> 
> WARNING: James MacGyver is portrayed pretty badly in this one (more so than in others of this series), fueled by grief and rage and behaving cruelly (nothing graphic)

When Jack got home, Mac was going to be in trouble.

Mac knew this for a fact. As soon as Jack looked at his son’s school’s learning management system, which he did almost every evening, he would see a message about Mac’s unexplained absence.

He would be shocked, at first. Mac never skipped school, and Jack had seen him leave for the bus stop this morning. He just didn’t know that Mac had come back home after Jack headed for the stable. Jack would probably initially assume the message was a glitch, but Mac wouldn’t lie to him when he asked, just as he hadn’t compounded his mistake by calling the school and pretending to be his dad to get himself excused.

Then Jack would be confused and worried. He’d hover over the kid, questioning if he felt sick, if there was a problem at school, if the bus had been mysteriously blown up or transported to another dimension or if, in fact, _they_ were in a parallel dimension in which school was not required. Even as he attempted to tease, he would put an arm around Mac’s shoulders and pull him close, would press a gentle hand to his forehead, and, when detecting no fever, would resort to a full-on hug, trying to reassure himself that his kid was okay.

That part was actually kind of nice. But Mac wouldn’t be able to enjoy it, because lurking right behind it…

Jack might be a little angry, but he would definitely be disappointed, which was far worse. Mac’s stomach clenched just thinking about it. As soon as Jack learned that Mac had decided to take the day off without telling anybody, his eyebrows would raise in that way Mac dreaded, and his voice would get deeper and slower. Mac knew Jack would listen, and he thought his dad would even understand, but that wouldn’t save him from the lecture he was in for.

Mac tried to relax again. Sure, Jack would be upset for a while, but after the scolding, they would be okay. Jack might make him write apologies to his teachers or bar him from his basement lab until he made up the missed assignments, but that would be the end of it.

_“Not your best idea, hoss,”_ he could imagine Jack drawling. _“If you need a day off, you know that’s okay. What’s Dr. Amanda call ‘em? “Mental health days”? That’s fine, anytime, son. But you gotta tell me, you know?”_

Mac would agree, of course, and he’d mean it. He simply hadn’t realized how badly he needed a day to himself until he was almost at the bus stop, and then he couldn’t force himself to worry Jack by calling him.

_“You keepin’ things from me worries me more, kid. You know that, right?”_

Mac tried not to picture his dad’s disappointed frown and burrowed deeper into Jack’s bed, the sweatshirt he’d pilfered from Jack’s dresser bunching around him. He’d slept for a while this morning, which had been a welcome respite, but now he was regretting his decision not to contact Jack. It would be nicer if his dad were here.

He rolled over, looking out the window at the midday light, hugging JJ close. The plush golden retriever still lingered with warmth from the rice pack Mac had heated and slipped inside the Velcro pocket. It wasn’t as warm as the real Jack, but Jack Junior was a decent consolation prize when the genuine article wasn’t available.

He’d known as soon as his dad presented him with the foot-and-a-half-long toy, freshly heated and bursting with newness, that it reminded him of Jack—warmth, comfort, safety. Unconditional love. Dr. Amanda, his psychologist, had casually mentioned therapeutic stuffed animals and recommended this brand, but Mac hadn’t been sure he wanted one. At least, not that he would admit.

But when Jack nervously offered him the adorable yellow dog, making several disclaimers about it being fine if Mac didn’t want it or never used it, Mac melted. JJ was luxuriously soft and satisfyingly weighted, and his long silky ears were just right for fidgeting fingers.

_“JJ? That’s what you’re gonna call it?” Jack tipped his head, curious._

_Mac thought fast. “Yeah. For James Joule.”_

_“Who?”_

_“The scientist who laid the foundation for the First Law of Thermodynamics.” Mac couldn’t resist adding, “He spent some time studying under a mathematician named John Dalton.”_

_Jack grinned. “So you ain’t the only genius Dalton out there.”_

If Jack suspected the animal was his namesake, he said nothing, and in return, Mac didn’t complain about his dad declaring he’d chosen JJ because Mac always reminded him of a puppy. He didn’t complain _too_ much, anyway.

Mac yawned and wondered if it were worth the effort to get up and make something to eat. He didn’t feel hungry—he never did on his lowest days—but if he could tell Jack he hadn’t skipped lunch, that would shave a few minutes off the reprimand and might possibly earn him a grudging commendation for taking care of himself mentally _and_ physically, even if he made dumb-teenager decisions.

He dragged himself out of Jack’s bed, leaving JJ in place, figuring he’d have time for another nap before Jack came home. He opened the door to the master bedroom and stopped short. Something wasn’t right.

Mac and Jack had lived in this house less than a year, but it was already as familiar as any home Mac had ever had. He knew every noise, every odor, every ripple in the air currents. And the cautious creaking of the back door did _not_ belong in the normal array of sounds.

Someone was breaking in.

Breaths coming faster, Mac listened for just another second, enough to confirm two quick and quiet pairs of feet, and then he backed into the room and closed the door soundlessly.

He knew the statistics. Most home burglaries occurred between the hours of ten in the morning and three in the afternoon, and nearly eighty percent of burglars went to the master bedroom first, searching for cash, jewelry, weapons, and designer clothing. Jack didn’t have much jewelry, but what he had was good quality, and a leather jacket or two might attract the attention of a thief. Mac knew there was some cash in a drawer as well—he’d seen it just this morning when searching for Jack’s soft, worn sweatshirt. Mac looked around critically, brain working overtime.

Mac tried to calm himself with the reminder that most burglars were in and out of houses in ten minutes or less, which meant they wouldn’t spend too much time battling obstacles. If Mac could slow them down, they might give up. After all, Mac reasoned, only seven percent of daytime robberies ended with a household member the victim of violence. Those were pretty good odds.

As a first measure, Mac engaged the lock, but if, as he suspected, the two now at the bottom of the stairs had picked the lock on the back door, that wouldn’t keep them out for long.

Mac scrabbled in the small glass dish that held loose change and, fueled by adrenaline and anxiety, slotted some coins between the door and the frame in record time. Moving even faster, he grabbed a few belts and a necktie—that he had never seen Jack wear—and wrapped the round doorknob, tethering it to the dresser. He hoped that if the thieves couldn’t get the knob to turn, they would just assume they hadn’t been able to pick it successfully.

And then light footfalls were in the hallway outside.

Mac retreated to the closet to keep watch, shaking now that the intruders were rattling at the door. As quietly as possible, Mac fumbled behind his back and, without looking, keyed in the six digits to unlock the safe. It opened with a muted beep.

The teen froze, listening, but the burglars were making some noise themselves as they struggled with the door, and he doubted they’d heard.

Inside the safe, just as he’d expected, was Jack’s gun, the ammunition stored next to it.

Mac reached out a hand and hesitated. Jack had expressly stated that the only thing Mac wasn’t allowed to touch in the entire house was his old service weapon. Mac had promised not to, and Jack trusted him, trusted him enough to give him the combination to the safe. He was already being a disappointment today. Should he really disobey his dad’s direct order?

On the other hand, Jack had said repeatedly that his son was the most important thing in the world. If it kept Mac safe, Jack would almost certainly forgive anything.

He’d never loaded the weapon himself, but he’d seen Jack do it, and he was pretty sure he could remember how. Of course, an unloaded gun was probably just as good a deterrent. Mac didn’t think he could bring himself to shoot near another person, much less at them directly, especially if they were unarmed themselves.

He picked up the gun, hefted its weight, and immediately put it back down. Even without bullets, he couldn’t do it. He slammed the door to the safe shut, remembering just in time to soften the clang, and determinedly shoved away the memories rushing in and threatening to overwhelm his rationality. His eyes landed on JJ, and something twisted in his heart at the thought of a small gray rabbit, but he chose to focus on the message of safety emanating from Jack Junior.

He needed Jack. The _real_ Jack.

With a final bang on the door, the two burglars muttered to each other and moved back down the stairs, probably to look for electronics.

Breathing more freely at the reprieve, Mac pulled out his phone.

_Burglars in house. Call 911._

The response came within seconds.

_U safe?_

_Yeah. Can’t make noise._

_On way_

Mac didn’t reply, knowing Jack would be on the phone with the police. Instead, he picked up JJ and squished the soft animal in his arms, letting his cheek fall onto the velvety fur.

It would be okay. Jack was coming, and by the time he got home, the burglars should be long gone, their ten-minute deadline well past.

Mac really hoped these were _timely_ criminals. If they were still in the house when Jack arrived—which, the kid realized, would be much quicker than usual because he was _sure_ Jack was breaking every traffic law out there—Jack wouldn’t wait for the police, not with his son inside. And if he surprised the pair…

Mac needed to do something.

Gliding over to the window, Mac lifted the pane and peeked outside, shuddering at the drop. _It’s not that far_ , he berated himself, but he couldn’t look down again. He turned back to the room, wondering if he could fashion some kind of ladder. If he could get outside, he could catch Jack before the former Delta burst into the house.

That would keep Jack safe, but the burglars might get away. Although Mac _knew_ that personal safety was more important than possessions, knew that Jack would tell him so, he also knew that barely over ten percent of home burglaries resulted in arrests. Maybe he could do more to help. He could at least try to determine if the intruders were armed.

Silently undoing his handiwork on the door, Mac slipped out into the hallway and listened, JJ tucked unnoticed under one arm. From what he could tell, there were two men in the living room. He remembered with a pang that his iPad was on the end table next to the couch, and he figured he wouldn’t see it again.

The voices were too low for him to make out the words, but Mac got the impression that they were debating the merits of carrying the nearly new sixty-inch TV outside. Mac slid down a few stairs to get a better view.

One of the men turned abruptly and strode past the staircase. Mac’s stomach spasmed violently, but the man didn’t look up, moving confidently down the hall toward the front door as though he owned the place.

The arrogance of the gesture angered Mac. He readied his phone and began videoing, easing down one more step.

The man near the front door whistled, and his partner swiftly joined him.

“Keys?” Mac heard one mutter.

There were a few more rumbles between the pair that he couldn’t make out, and Mac’s heart sank. He knew exactly what they’d found.

The keys to Jack’s beloved GTO.

Jack had taken the truck to the stable, as he often did, so the keys were hanging on their hook in the front hall. Mac heard them jangle, and then the two men were beelining toward the back door, their faces framed perfectly in the camera lens.

Mac’s feeling of triumph was short-lived. The shorter man glanced up, stiffened, and hissed, “Camera!” His partner followed his gaze, and the next second, both were pounding up the steps toward the teen.

Mac leaped up three stairs and dashed back into the master bedroom, using one hand to slam the door behind him while the other fumbled with his phone, not stopping in his headlong plunge across the room. He hesitated an instant, and then, as he heard a crash at the door, Mac dove out the window.

 

~~~

 

Mac was drifting. He had a vague sense of feet running up to him and someone angrily snatching something away from him, something that he wanted to keep. And pain. Strange pain, because he thought he was somewhere he was supposed to be safe.

Jack Rabbit.

The name that floated into his mind hadn’t occurred to him in years. Four-year-old Mac had considered it quite clever, and his mother laughed in that way that made her son feel like the sun had just appeared from behind the clouds.

The small stuffed rabbit had been his constant companion for the next two-and-a-half years, had absorbed the tears of a small child mourning the loss of his mother, had listened, his wise whiskered face serious, when the little boy asked over and over why his mom wasn’t coming home.

Mac slowly settled into a new routine, one that consisted of trying to guess what would make his father angry and to avoid doing that. Leaving his toys anywhere outside of their designated boxes was a sure trigger for the shouting that left the boy drained and trembling. He had multiple Legos and a favorite old lift-the-flap book tossed in the trash in front of his teary eyes, suitable punishment for forgetting them on the living-room floor or the kitchen table.

It was his own fault. Even seven-year-old Mac had understood that. He had forgotten Jack Rabbit one too many times, and he knew that this time of year—two years to the day—was especially hard on his dad, that James just needed him to be good and _stop_ _reminding him so damn much of her_.

He didn’t think much of it when he heard the shots out back. James liked target practice to blow off steam. Mac hated the loud noise, but he was never invited along, so he could bury himself in his bed, pillow over his head, and read a book.

Except Jack Rabbit wasn’t there with him.

It was his fault, of course. He’d taken the plush toy outside so they could study ant trails together, and he’d left— _abandoned_ —his friend on the back porch.

Jack Rabbit had long ears that were probably more sensitive than Mac’s. He wouldn’t like the noise either. Mac needed to rescue him.

He crept out the back door, but the stuffed animal wasn’t where he’d expected. He looked around wildly.

Really, it was only to be expected. If he couldn’t take care of his things, he shouldn’t have them. And a simple round painted target might get boring after a while.

But Mac still shrieked when Jack Rabbit sailed off the fence post, tufts of stuffing exploding in the air.

Sixteen-year-old Mac curled his arms around smooth fur. Maybe this time he could save Jack Rabbit. He didn’t remember precisely, the actual events blurring with the nightmare versions over the years until all he had were impressions rather than definite memories.

He had the impression that he’d run toward the fence, heedless of his father already firing at another target. He had the impression that, while the bullet had been nowhere near him, the roar of the gun had echoed in his ears and blocked his father’s yelling as James put down the weapon and advanced on his son, face red with anger.

He had never seen Jack Rabbit again.

But something soft and friendly was in his arms now. Also Jack. Had Jack Rabbit come back?

“Mac? Mac, kiddo, wake up. Mac, you there?”

Maybe he’d always been destined to have a Jack in his life.

Mac opened his eyes.

“Hey, there you are.” Jack smiled, but his brown eyes dripped with concern. “Do you know where you are, bud?”

Mac blinked sluggishly. “Home.”

Jack stroked his hair gently, feeling tenderly along the scalp. “Okay, good. Do you remember what happened?”

Mac twisted to look around and winced as pain lanced through his head. He’d been sure something important had been taken, but JJ was safe under his arm, so what—

“Phone,” he mumbled, wondering why it felt so hard to form sentences. “Took phone.”

“They took your phone?” Jack looked around himself, as though imagining the device would suddenly appear.

Mac grunted in response.

“Okay, that’s okay,” Jack soothed, his arm moving above his head in a weird wavy motion like he was…waving it or something. “You sent me the video, I guess right before you took a header out the window, and I’ve already passed it on to the police.” Two shapes appeared behind Jack as if summoned. “You did good, son. Now let the nice paramedics check you out, huh?”

Mac grunted again.

“Stay awake, kid, all right?”

“I am awake,” Mac protested, wondering when he had learned to talk without opening his mouth. And then he stopped wondering.

 

~~~

 

Mac hadn’t meant to sleep this long. He’d been fully intending to be downstairs when Jack got home so his dad wouldn’t know anything was amiss until he logged onto his school account, and they could at least have dinner together before Jack realized his son had let him down.

He cracked one eyelid. Maybe there was still time—

Wait. Why was Jack sitting next to his bed? Come to think of it, why was his bed so bleached white and not fully reclined and _hospital-y_?

“Mac?”

Jack’s voice was quiet, but it drew Mac’s attention to the warm grasp on his hand. He fumbled for a minute before figuring out how to grip his dad’s fingers.

“Hey, kiddo.” Mac could hear both relief and concern in his dad’s voice. “You gonna let me see those pretty blue eyes for more than a second this time?”

“Mm.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that story already, bud. Wanna think up somethin’ new?”

With a herculean effort, Mac peeled open his eyes, eventually focusing on his dad’s smile. “H’y.”

“Hey, yourself.” Jack squeezed his hand. “You want a drink?”

Jack fussed over him for several minutes, offering him water, holding him down when he tried to sit up, and calling in a nurse, who also fussed over the kid before deciding they could raise the bed to let Mac sit more nearly upright.

Mac accepted the medical ministrations more docilely than usual. He had known the whole day that Jack would mother-hen all over him before giving in to the anger and disappointment he felt.

As soon as the nurse left, Mac gave a preemptive apology. “’M sorry.”

To his surprise, Jack was silent for several moments, staring down at the floor, thumb stroking the back of the knuckles on Mac’s right hand, his breathing hitching and uneven.

“J-Jack?”

Jack looked up then, his eyes glittering. “Son, I don’t care about anything right now except that you’re gonna be okay. That is the only thing I can think about right now. So—” Jack sniffed and wiped at his eyes. “You either need to scoot over and let me in there with you, or I’m gonna get in trouble with that nice nurse for tryna pull you off the bed so I can hug you.”

It was too much information. Mac puzzled over it for a minute, abandoning the effort when Jack made a shooing motion, and Mac got the idea.

After some awkward shifting and many words of caution from Jack, they were finally settled, this time with Mac’s head pillowed on his dad’s shoulder. Jack sighed contentedly, and Mac echoed the action a moment later.

“You’re gonna be the death of me someday, you know that, kid?” Jack whispered into the blond hair. “About had a heart attack when I got your message. And then—” Jack choked off the memory of arriving home to find his GTO gone and his son sprawled in the yard, out cold.

“Mm. Sorry.”

Jack wondered which event from today Mac thought was worth an apology. It was most likely not the things of which Jack disapproved—namely, recording the thieves and then _throwing himself out a window_ instead of just hiding, sitting tight, and staying safe. Instead, Mac probably thought it was his fault they’d been robbed.

He decided to get that out of the way. “I haven’t been inside yet to see what all’s missing, but your new friends didn’t get too far in the GTO ‘fore gettin’ pulled over. You did good, son. Except for the diving out a second-story window part.”

After a long moment, Mac blushed. Jack wondered if the delayed reaction were in response to the praise or the gentle criticism.

“Skipped school,” Mac offered in a tiny voice.

Jack stilled for a second and then pulled his son deeper into his embrace. “Yeah, I know, kid. We can talk about that later, okay?”

Mac’s head dropped. “’Kay.”

“Hey, you remember what I said? The only thing that matters to me is that you’re okay.”

Mac nuzzled a little closer, and Jack happily tightened his arms around his son.

“That doesn’t mean you’re off the hook,” Jack warned. Before Mac could pull away, Jack was quick to assure, “But that can wait, and you know you an’ me are always gonna be okay, right? Completely…”

The kid was slow to pick up the prompt, but eventually he slurred, “F’ev’r.”

“No matter what,” Jack finished softly, brushing his lips along his son’s hairline. Mac snuggled into his dad’s chest and let out a breath when Jack began running his fingers through the blond hair.

“JJ back later?”

Jack pondered the sleepy mumble.

“Dog’s in the truck, kiddo. Figured you wouldn’t want it to end up smellin’ like a hospital.”

Mac didn’t respond, and Jack finally figured out what he was implying.

“I’m not takin’ it away from you, bud. I would never do that. You can have it whenever you want. I’ll go out now and get it if you want.”

“Oh.” Mac wrapped his arms more tightly around Jack’s midsection. “’S okay. Just thought…”

Jack waited patiently.

“Next Dr. ‘Manda…” Mac’s words were coming faster even if he wasn’t up to speaking in full sentences. “Come with?”

“You want me to come to your next appointment? Uh, sure, I can do that.” Mac had never extended this invitation before, and Jack wasn’t sure if he should be worried or pleased.

“’Membered something. Think…you should know.”

“Okay,” Jack murmured, dropping another kiss to the top of his son’s head. “Sounds good, kiddo.”

“I like JJ,” Mac announced blearily, seemingly apropos of nothing. “Long ears.”

Jack shook his head, befuddled. “Well, I like JJ too. ‘Specially ‘cause you landed on top of it, and the doc says that extra cushioning helped protect your ribs. So I’m a big fan.”

Mac yawned, and then, to Jack’s surprise, he giggled. “Me too. Jacks always protect me.”

Jack opened his mouth but couldn’t figure out how to respond. Mac had been given some painkillers, and they were clearly taking effect.

Mac hummed happily, tucking his head into the crook of his dad’s neck. “S nice to have a Jack.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the break-in, Jack is responding in a totally calm, rational, non-freaking-out sort of way. And if he _is_ freaking out, he's doing a really good job of hiding it from Mac.
> 
> He is wrong on both counts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to GeekyNightOwl1997 and Floh67 for encouraging a continuation of this story! This kind of veered in an odd direction, but I hope it provides some enjoyment anyway.
> 
> Warning: For the first time in my history of writing dad!Jack, Jack is NOT being a perfect father. He is, in fact, making quite a few parenting mistakes. (But it's back to soft gooey fluff 'n' cuddles by the end.)

Jack checked his phone for the fifth time. Mac should be at school by _now_ , surely. Why hadn’t he texted?

Jack had exercised enough restraint this morning. He composed a quick message.

_Kid, where are you?_

He drummed his fingers impatiently, wondering if he needed to cancel his upcoming lesson so he could go search for his son.

_We’re just pulling in the parking lot at school._

Jack relaxed a fraction.

_Stop worrying so much, okay?_

Jack scowled. Oh, Mac did _not_ just say that.

_You want me to stop worrying? Prove you are where you say you are and not ditching school, you little sneak._

Nearly two minutes went by before Jack’s phone chimed again. It was a picture of the sign at the front entrance of Mac’s school, and in the foreground…

_Excuse me, young man, did you just flip me off?_

_:) Have a great day!_

Jack grumbled but put away his phone. He might need to have another chat with the kid about his cavalier approach toward his own safety. Jack had made it quite clear that Mac was supposed to check in when he got to school, again at lunch, and then when he was leaving the school building. Monday and Tuesday, Mac had done so without complaint, but now he was starting to get an attitude, as if his dad were being unreasonable or something.

Okay, so Jack had, for the first time ever, denied Mac’s request to hang out at Bozer’s place last night. And, thanks to an early-morning group class at the stable, this was the first day he’d let Mac catch a ride with Bozer to school instead of driving the teen there himself. And he’d already texted the kid twice, first to ask if he’d made it to the car—to which he received a picture of a bemused Bozer at the wheel—and then to ask if Mac had remembered to turn on the new security system when he left. (So what if he’d reminded the kid last night? And left a note for him this morning? The little genius had a lot on his mind. He might forget. It was a completely legitimate question.)

None of that was unreasonable. Mac was just being a moody teenager.

Well, that was fine. Moderate mood swings were to be expected from a teen, especially one who had just been through a traumatic experience. Mac was still Jack’s favorite person. Jack had a busy morning but the afternoon mostly free, so he could meet the kid at home after school, hang out with him until it was time for the evening routine at the stable.

Exactly on time at 12:10, Mac sent a gif, and Jack was so delighted to see his son that he ignored that it sounded suspiciously like Mac was coughing the word “helicopter” over and over.

At 3:30, Mac sent a photo of an exasperated-looking Bozer, who, Jack was pleased to note, had both hands on the steering wheel. However, he’d need to have a talk with his son’s best friend about keeping his eyes on the road instead of glancing over at Mac.

At 3:55, Jack was waiting by the front door, watching for his kid, not looking at the blank space on the wall where the key hooks used to be. They had solved the issue of making sure Mac had access to a vehicle in case of emergency by getting a duplicate set of keys. Jack carried his at all times now, and he had insisted Mac do so as well. The teen had argued that it didn’t make sense to take the keys with him when the vehicle was at home and suggested he just put the keys in his bedroom instead. Unable to refute this logic, Jack resorted to the “because I said so” answer he’d always hated as a kid, but Mac had just rolled his eyes and gone along with it.

At 3:59, Jack was tapping his foot anxiously.

At 4:00, Jack was standing on the front step, as though he’d be able to see much farther from that vantage point.

At 4:01, Jack had his phone in his hand, wondering if he should call Mac or the police first.

At 4:02, Bozer’s car pulled in.

“Jack!”

Mac’s startled exclamation couldn’t possibly be protesting the hug his dad was giving him. Maybe he _had_ kind of pulled the kid out of the car, but that was a totally normal reaction to the relief he felt that his tardy son was still in one piece.

“Uh, hey, Jack.” Bozer leaned across the passenger seat to look up at his friend’s dad.

“Boze,” Jack mumbled into Mac’s hair, tightening his grip as he felt the kid squirming. He heard Mac sigh, and then the kid tilted sideways as Bozer hung his backpack on the arm he’d stretched back.

“See you tomorrow, Mac.”

Mac struggled against the hand on the back of his head, trying to remove his face from his dad’s shirt, gave up, and waved blindly at his friend.

Jack demonstrated admirable self-control, not saying a word until he’d tugged his son inside.

“You, young man.” He pulled away far enough to point a finger in Mac’s face. “You are grounded.”

Mac’s mouth fell open. “ _What?_ ”

“What do you mean _what_? What do you expect is gonna happen when you waltz home whenever you feel like it, totally disregarding your curfew—”

“Jack.” Mac was shaking his head fast enough that Jack felt dizzy. “What are you talking about?”

“Man, how is the genius not keeping up with me here? You said you’d be home at four, and you were late, kid. Not cool.”

Mac twisted to look at the hall clock. “Jack, I said _around_ four. And it’s only four-oh-five. Which means I was _at_ _most_ three minutes—”

“You know what could happen in three minutes?” Jack wrenched his mind away from the myriad possibilities. “This is why we have curfews, kiddo.”

“I don’t have a curfew—”

“Well, you do now.”

Mac’s jaw dropped. “Since—but—what—”

Jack crossed his arms and glared, daring the kid to argue.

“And it’s _four o’clock_?” Mac finally managed.

“You got a problem with that? ‘Cause we still gotta talk about how grounded you are, so I wouldn’t be sassin’ if I were you.”

Mac’s head dropped. “Jack…” he said softly.

Jack’s posture softened a little. The kid sounded upset, and Jack reminded himself that he’d lucked out and gotten the best-behaved teen he’d ever met. Mac was usually a good kid. He probably felt ashamed of himself now for being late.

Jack gathered his son in his arms again, kissing his temple. “I love you. How ‘bout you go work on your homework, and we can talk more later?”

Mac nodded slowly, peeking up at his dad with wide blue eyes.

“Nope. Puppy-dog eyes ain’t gonna get you outta this one, mister. I already let it slide when you skipped school last week, didn’t I?”

Mac’s lips trembled as though he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words.

“Go on, kid,” Jack prompted, gently squeezing the back of the kid’s neck. “I’ll come get you when dinner’s ready. Then you can come to the stable with me to finish up the chores.” It wasn’t one of Mac’s usual days to work, but Jack had no intention of leaving his son in the house alone, not if he could help it.

Mac was quiet the rest of the night, nodding meekly when Jack informed him he would not be going out with his friends this weekend as planned since he couldn’t even get home from school on time. The teen probably felt guilty. Jack made sure to hug him extra tightly and spend more time than usual carding his fingers through the kid’s soft hair when he tucked him in bed, something Mac hadn’t protested the past few days—not that Jack had given him an option, walking into the kid’s room without asking first. Mac accepted the affection, as he had every evening, but he was frowning slightly, and Jack was glad Mac had an appointment with Dr. Amanda tomorrow.

The next morning, Jack dropped his near-silent son off at school, reminding him to text at lunch, admonishing him not to be late after school because they had to go straight to the psychologist, and ruffling his hair.

“I love you, kid, you know that?”

Mac smiled, but his eyes remained sad. “I know, Jack.”

Poor kid must be really disappointed about this weekend. But what did he expect? Did he really think his dad wouldn’t restrict his freedom after he nearly sent Jack into a panic attack? Jack would feel better if he could keep an eye on Mac this weekend, and he was sure the teen would like it too, as soon as he stopped pouting. After all, they had spent all of last weekend installing the new security system together, never more than a few feet away from each other, and it had felt _right_. Like that was how it was supposed to be.

Jack had been reluctant to let Mac return to school on Monday where the kid would be out of his sight for several hours, but he’d already kept Mac home on Friday after the break-in the day before. They had left the house only to get the teen a new phone and to have a last-minute visit with Dr. Amanda. Mac was starting to hint that he had assignments to catch up on and needed to get back to school. He’d been medically cleared for normal activities, and when Jack had suggested, on a whim, that maybe Mac would like to start homeschooling, the kid had just looked at him as though he were crazy.

Mac didn’t get it. Jack was having a _totally normal_ reaction to his home being invaded and his son put in danger. Really, Jack should be grateful for this wake-up call. He clearly hadn’t been doing enough before to protect the kid. That would change now.

If Jack had anything to say about it, he would never again receive an SOS message from Mac that nearly stopped his heart. In less than a second, every nightmare scenario he’d ever envisioned—and as a former Delta, he could imagine plenty—had paraded through his mind, all featuring his son, injured, bleeding, hurt, _dying_. The only hope he could cling to as he tore through the streets was that Mac said he was safe; he was able to use his phone, so he had to be somewhere the burglars couldn’t see him.

But the little self-sacrificing idiot just couldn’t stay put. Jack frankly couldn’t believe he’d avoided crashing the truck when he’d spotted the prone figure of his son on the grass.

Mac had been released from the hospital relatively quickly, not even staying the night, and Jack about gave himself whiplash as he rocketed between scolding the kid and cooing over him, unable to properly focus on either his anger or his concern. Mac had stayed silent and wide-eyed for several minutes, finally tentatively offering that Jack could go ahead and ground him for skipping school. Jack had blown past this half-apology, too busy thinking about Mac leaving the safety of the master bedroom—where he’d had the sense to barricade himself in—just so the thieves wouldn’t get away clean.

Thanks to Mac—and maybe because these were clearly not the brightest criminals on record—the GTO had been recovered within the hour. Mac’s phone was the only casualty. After snatching it off the kid, the burglars had smashed the screen, apparently believing that was enough to destroy the data.

In their emergency session with Dr. Amanda, Jack had acknowledged his gratitude that the pair had been thieves only and hadn’t laid a hand on the unconscious kid when they found his phone next to him. But Mac’s story of his childhood stuffed rabbit—which he told in an apparent desire to demonstrate how different his life was now—did nothing to ease Jack’s worry. When they got home, Jack announced that as soon as Mac was back to one-hundred percent, they would start self-defense training, cautioning in the same breath that Mac was never, ever permitted to get into a fight, and maybe they needed to build some hiding spaces into the walls of the house.

Jack wasn’t the only one with mental whiplash after that conversation.

He collected Mac after school, greeting him effusively, trying to respect the teen’s more reserved public persona but unable to resist squeezing his shoulder briefly. Mac kept his eyes on the fidgeting fingers in his lap during the short ride to Dr. Amanda’s office.

Jack had only been inside the inner office twice, once when they first met Dr. Amanda and then again last Friday when Mac had asked him to join the session. But it felt natural to walk in, keeping Mac behind him, Jack automatically scanning the room. He didn’t expect any danger, of course, but one could never be too cautious.

He turned to see Mac studying him nervously, probably wondering if his dad thought he had the right to sit in on every appointment now that he’d been invited once. Jack hastened to set his mind at ease.

“You want me here, kiddo?” he asked quietly. “Or I can wait outside.”

“Yeah,” Mac agreed, sounding relieved. “I’ll see you in an hour.”

“Yeah, that’s fine, son.” Jack gave the kid a hug, thinking it odd that this made Mac blush. It wasn’t like he was being one of _those_ dads who purposely embarrassed their kids in front of their friends. It was just his therapist, and Jack was a cool dad.

A rational, sane, _reasonable_ cool dad. Who was sitting casually at the best vantage point in the waiting room to see anyone who entered or exited. Who had no interest in reading the magazines scattered on the low tables or in playing on his phone or in running down to the coffee cart for a snack, any of which might have captured his attention before. But he was _guarding his son_ , dammit, and he needed to focus on that single top priority.

It was sixty-four minutes later that Mac emerged, but Jack figured the running late was Dr. Amanda’s fault, so he didn’t scold. Mac seemed somehow…nervous?...enough as it was. Poor kid had probably been reliving the events of last week. After they stopped at the stable, Jack would get him home, lock every door and window, set the alarm, and give the kid the sweatshirt he liked to “borrow” from his dad.

And then smother him with outpourings of affection until Mac could be certain he was completely safe.

It was a good plan. Too bad Mac had a plan of his own.

“Jack?”

It was after dinner, and Mac was hovering in the doorway to the kitchen, sounding oddly hesitant.

Jack turned to give his son his full attention. “Yeah, kid?”

“Um, can we talk?”

Jack’s expression melted into one of sympathy. “Yeah, of course, bud. Come on.” He led the way to the living room, flopping down into the recliner, scooting to one side in a signal to the kid that there was room to share.

To his surprise, Mac perched on the couch, leaning forward with elbows on knees, facing his dad.

“You okay, kiddo?” Jack wanted to kick himself. Of _course_ Mac wasn’t okay. He’d been through a harrowing incident. “I mean, it’s okay not to be okay.”

Mac sighed softly. “Jack…” He shook his head.

“Mac.” Jack leaned forward, mirroring his son’s posture. “I _promise_ you’re gonna be safe. I am never gonna let anyone put you in danger ever again. I kinda let you down there, kid, but it won’t happen again. Never. You’re safe, you hear me?”

This did not have the result Jack had anticipated. Instead of looking reassured, Mac appeared even more troubled.

“Hey, what is it? Somethin’ we can do to beef up security a little more? Bet you could create some—”

“Jack. Just stop, okay?”

Jack’s eyebrows shot up.

“Jack…” Mac took a deep breath. “I’m worried about you.”

“Worried about _me_?” Jack repeated, flabbergasted.

Mac nodded firmly.

“Oh, I get it.” Jack smiled understandingly. “This is one of those things where you don’t want to think about what happened to you, so you focus on someone else instead, right? That’s thoughtful, son, but—”

“ _No_ , Jack.” Mac straightened to look his dad in the eye. “I’m really worried about _you_ , and—and Dr. Amanda said I should talk to you—”

“You spend your time with your therapist talking about _me_? Shouldn’t you be—”

“Jack, will you just _listen_?”

Jack scowled. “I always listen to you, kid. You can tell me anything, remember?”

Mac looked down, crossing his arms. “Not lately.”

Jack couldn’t have heard that right. “Excuse me?”

Mac lifted his head, tears of frustration glimmering in his eyes. “Jack, you _haven’t_ been listening to me. Not for days. And—and Dr. Amanda said I should figure out how to tell you and not just…not just…”

Jack found himself holding his breath, waiting for the end of that sentence. _Just accept it? Just believe this was the new normal? Just keep his head down and not argue?_

“So I’m trying to tell you,” Mac amended quietly.

“Yeah.” Jack pressed his lips together and nodded. “Okay, kid. I apologize. Go ahead.”

Mac took a deep breath, looking back at the floor, fingers twisting in the hem of his shirt. Jack found one of his fidget toys on the end table and handed it to him.

“Jack…I know you were really scared last week when—when it happened.”

Mac paused, so Jack acknowledged, “Yeah, son, I was.”

“And—and that’s my fault, because—”

“No,” Jack couldn’t help interrupting. “That was _not_ your fault.”

“Maybe not the—not the break-in, but I shouldn’t have been home. I—I’m sorry I skipped school without telling you. I—”

Jack waved an arm. “You think that matters when your first response to burglars is to _get closer to them_?”

Mac slashed a hand in the air, frustrated. “That’s part of the problem!”

“What?”

“You’re—you’re not letting me apologize—”

“Well, you keep apologizin’ for the wrong things!”

“Jack!” Mac threw the fidget toy on the coffee table. “I—” He blinked rapidly, eyelashes wet. “Never mind.”

“Hey, where you goin’?”

Mac didn’t look back. “To my room.”

“Thought you wanted to talk,” Jack objected, standing.

“Just forget about it.”

“Hey!” Jack stared at the empty space where his son had just been. He took a step forward, ready to go after the kid and tear him a new one for walking away in the middle of a conversation until he remembered that Mac was one who had asked to talk, not Jack. Which made it strange, but not disrespectful, for Mac to have left.

Jack sat back down, deciding to give the kid a few minutes to return on his own.

Half an hour later, Jack approached the closed bedroom door and knocked lightly. “Can I come in, buddy?”

He heard a grunt that he interpreted as permission and eased inside.

Mac was stretched out on his stomach on the bed, JJ tucked under one arm. The pose was so reminiscent of the way Jack had found him last week that for a moment his world spun.

“Mac?” he whispered.

After a pause, Mac rolled onto his side, gazing wearily at his dad.

Jack let out a sigh of relief. Mac wasn’t unconscious. He wasn’t injured. He was fine. And Jack was going to do everything in his power to make sure he stayed that way.

“It happened again, didn’t it?”

At the soft question, Jack startled. “What?”

“Just now. You were thinking about it, weren’t you?”

Jack started to deny it, not wanting to worry the kid, but Mac spoke first.

“You said we both had to be honest.”

Jack growled but had to admit the rules they’d agreed on applied to them both equally. “All right,” he said grudgingly. “It might have popped into my head for a second there.”

Mac nodded expressionlessly. “It’s been happening a lot, hasn’t it?”

Unable to lie, Jack tried to deflect. “Hey, why don’t you tell me what’s goin’ on inside that genius brain of yours? I promise to listen this time, okay?”

Mac sat up, pulling JJ into his lap so he could play with his soft ears. “I _am_ telling you, Jack.” His voice was gentle.

“What?”

“Jack…” Mac gestured and waited until his dad pulled up the desk chair. “You keep talking about what a scary experience it was for me. But I don’t think you’re considering how hard it was on _you_.”

Jack opened his mouth, closed it, swallowed, and tried again. “No, son, you don’t need to wor—”

“Stop it, Jack.” Mac’s voice sharpened. “You’re so busy trying to protect me that you’re—you’re actually…” He choked on his words.

“Actually what?” Jack prompted softly, suddenly afraid of the answer.

Mac couldn’t meet his eyes. “…Making things worse.”

Jack fell back in the chair, feeling as if he’d just been stabbed in the heart. “ _What?_ ”

The kid bit his lip and huddled in on himself, fingers moving faster over JJ’s fur.

After a long minute, Jack forced himself to take a few deep breaths. “Okay, kiddo. I’m not upset. But I need you to explain what you mean. Can you do that?”

Blue eyes flicked up. “Will you listen?”

“Yeah.” Jack grabbed the chair seat with one hand to steady himself. “Yeah, I’m listenin’, bud.”

Mac hesitated another moment as though collecting his thoughts. “Jack…I know you were really scared, and I’m sor—I mean, I’m sorry it happened. But ever since then, you’ve been acting like I’m made of glass or something.”

Jack waited, but when Mac didn’t speak for a few minutes, he interpolated, “What’s wrong with trying to take care of my kid?”

Mac shook his head. “You always did before this. You didn’t have to change. What happened wasn’t your fault.”

The chair clattered to the floor as Jack shot up, fists clenched, pacing the length of the room. He could feel Mac staring at him.

Jack forced the words through gritted teeth. “Kid, I ‘preciate you sayin’ that, but I shoulda installed a security system ages ago. And we shoulda had plans in place for situations like this, like those disaster drills y’all do at school. I mean, thank God you’re the king of improvisin’, but…you shouldn’t have _had_ to be on your own.”

“Jack.” Mac rose and cautiously approached his dad, holding out his arms. Jack grabbed him up immediately. “You came as soon as I texted you. I knew you would,” Mac mumbled into his dad’s shoulder. “But you can’t keep me locked up twenty-four-seven.”

Jack’s hand stilled on Mac’s hair. “You make me sound like some evil ogre trapping a princess in a tower.”

Mac’s nose wrinkled, but he didn’t protest the analogy. “I’m not a helpless baby, Jack. And if there’s something I can’t handle, I promise I will always call you. You have to trust me.”

“I…” Jack inhaled the scent of his son’s hair and resumed rubbing his back. “I do trust you, buddy.”

“No.” Mac shook his head forcefully enough that he nearly dislodged himself from Jack’s embrace. “You don’t.”

“Yes—”

“Just yesterday you accused me of skipping school again.”

“What? No—”

Mac leaned back, grabbed his phone off the bed, and pulled up his messages.

_You want me to stop worrying? Prove you are where you say you are and not ditching school, you little sneak._

“Oh…” Jack felt himself flushing, a little embarrassed.

“It’s okay, Jack. I get it. It’s just…you never let me apologize for that, so I can’t—I can’t make it better—”

“Aw, kid.” Jack pulled Mac into his arms again. “I’m sorry.”

Mac buried his face in Jack’s neck. “Today, when I was talking to Dr. Amanda…”

“Yeah?”

“I figured out that—”

“Go ‘head, kid.”

“Well…you know how—I haven’t been to the basement since last week?”

Jack blinked. “Yeah…?” He hadn’t thought much of it, figuring the kid felt safer if he was close by Jack’s side.

“I…” Mac scuffed his socked feet together uncomfortably. “I guess I’ve been…trying to—trying to—you know—punish myself.”

That was not at all what Jack had expected. He gaped at his son, who seemed to take that as a cue to keep rambling.

“’Cause that’s what I thought you’d do, you know, when you got home and found out I—I didn’t go to school, and I…was trying to make things okay again,” he finished in barely more than a whisper.

“Oh, Mac…”

“But you never said anything about it, and then—then you—” Mac broke, crying quietly into Jack’s shirt. Jack squeezed him more tightly, fighting back tears himself. He hated seeing his son in pain. And somehow he had caused it.

Jack took a few sideways steps so he could sit on the bed, pulling Mac down next to him, JJ squished between them.

“Shh. Whatever it is, you can tell me, son. I promise I’m listenin’ this time.”

Mac muttered something unintelligible into Jack’s shoulder.

“Come again?”

Mac lifted his head slightly. “You started changing the rules.”

Jack’s brow furrowed. “I what?”

The kid was hiding in his shirt again.

“Mac. Gonna have to help me out a little more. What rules did I change?”

“You—you said I had a curfew, but you never told me before, and—and you _grounded_ me for being three minutes late even though—and I didn’t _know_ what you wanted—”

“Oh, kid.” Jack closed his eyes tightly. “I—I really messed up, huh?”

“James used to do that.” Mac’s voice was tiny. “Just…arbitrarily decide something was wrong, but—you know—without telling me first. Not until he got mad.”

Jack wanted to punch himself in the face. Scratch that, he wanted to pummel himself into the ground. “Mac…Mac, I…”

“It’s just—” Teary blue eyes finally raised. “You promised we’d make the rules together.”

Jack opened and closed his mouth a few times. “Buddy?” he finally managed. “I’m gonna need you to cover your ears for a sec, okay?”

“What? Why?”

“I’m callin’ myself every name in the book over here, and I don’t want you hearin’ that kinda language from me.”

This surprised a laugh out of the kid. “You’re only doing it in your head,” he pointed out.

Without missing a beat, Jack agreed, “Yep. But it’s so loud that I bet you can hear it too.”

Mac tilted his head, smiling fondly.

“God, you are the best kid ever, you know that?” Jack reached up slowly to brush the fluffy blond locks away from Mac’s face, wiping his own eyes with his other hand. “How’d I get so lucky to have you?”

Mac just watched him solemnly.

“Okay. I—was an idiot. Plain and simple.” Jack eyed his son. “You’re not gonna argue with that one?”

Mac smothered a giggle. “No.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “I deserve that.” His smile dropped. “That and more. Man, I am so, so, so sorry, kid. More than I can say. You’re absolutely right. I was—I wasn’t bein’ a dad, was I? I was bein’ a di—” Jack cut himself off.

“A dictator?” Mac helpfully supplied.

“Yeah, well, I was only gonna use the first syllable there, but you get the idea. And I apologize.” Jack thought back over their conversation. “And I apologize for not listenin’ to you before, and for not noticing you beatin’ yourself up.”

“And not trusting me.”

“And not trusting you. What can I do to make it up to you, huh?”

Mac was silent for a while, snuggling into Jack again. Jack ignored the way JJ dug into his side as he held his son close.

“Maybe…can we just start over?”

“Fresh start for both of us, that what you mean?”

“Uh-huh.”

Jack nodded slowly. “I think I can handle that.”

“I’m sorry I skipped school.”

It wasn’t the first time Mac had offered this apology, but this time Jack knew he needed to acknowledge it.

“Okay. I hear you. I’m disappointed you didn’t tell me you needed a day off, but none of what happened after that is your fault, got it?”

Mac nodded.

“And it won’t happen again, right?”

“I promise.”

“Okay. Well, you haven’t been down to your lair for almost a week. I think that’s plenty enough to make up for one mistake. All right? We’re square.”

“And you won’t accuse me of ditching?”

“No.” Jack recognized it was his turn to apologize. “I’m sorry I made you feel bad. I trust you.”

Mac sighed, relieved. “Okay. Thanks, Jack.”

“I’m still not happy about you puttin’ yourself in danger—” Jack held up a hand. “But I get it. You do need to spend some more time talkin’ with the doc about how you think a car is worth more than you are, though.”

“I don’t—”

“Mac.”

“Fine. I’ll bring it up at our next appointment. _Again_.”

“Well, you could stop if it would sink in that you are—you are the most important—”

“I know, Jack.”

“No, you clearly don’t.”

“No, I mean, I know what you’re going to say.”

“Yeah? Tell me.”

Mac made a dissatisfied sound but recited obediently, “A person is more valuable than any object, and I’m the most important person in the world to you.”

“All right.” Jack pulled his son forward so he could drop a kiss on the top of his head. “There’s the genius brain I’m used to. So now I need to make another promise. No more ridiculous rules, all right?”

“No curfew?”

“Well, not a four-o-clock curfew, anyway.” Jack scrubbed a hand over his face. “Man, how’d you even put up with me the last couple days? Not like it was your fault you didn’t get home exactly at four. Boze ain’t Mario Andretti.”

“Who?”

Jack groaned. “Never mind. Point is, I shouldn’t’ve yelled at you for somethin’ that wasn’t your fault, and I shouldn’t’ve have overreacted a little bit like I did.”

“A little bit?”

“Hey, watch it, kiddo. I was just about to say you weren’t grounded anymore.”

Mac smiled. “Sorry,” he said insincerely.

“Sure. But you can—you can go out with your friends this weekend. If you still want to.” Jack sighed. “I wasn’t even really mad. Just wanted to find a reason to keep you home with me.”

Mac patted his dad’s back, head still tucked into his shoulder. “I know. You freak out when you can’t see me.”

“I have not been freaking—”

“Jack. You practically wanted a minute-by-minute update anytime I was out of the house.”

“That wasn’t freaking out. That was fatherly interest in my son’s life.” Jack took in Mac’s unimpressed expression. “All right, maybe it was sort of _similar_ to freaking out.”

“It’s okay, Jack. I was…really scared too.”

“That why you put up with it for so long? Me hoverin’, I mean?”

“Yeah. It was…okay for a couple days.”

“And then I made it worse.”

Mac straightened. “It’s not your fault, Jack. Dr. Amanda said you could come in and talk to her if you wanted.”

Jack’s knee-jerk reaction was to refuse, but he managed to keep his mouth shut until he came up with a better response. “I—I’ll think about that, son.”

“Because if it isn’t my fault, it isn’t yours either. You need to stop blaming yourself.”

Jack sighed deeply. “That’s gonna take some time to sink in, kiddo. I’m your dad. I need to take care of you.”

Mac nodded, nestling back into Jack’s arms. “I know,” he said patiently. “And you always do. That’s why I don’t have to be scared.”

Jack pressed his lips to his son’s temple. “That’s what I needed to hear, kiddo.”

“But you didn’t get all of it right.”

“Oh?”

“We’re family, Jack.”

“Yeah…?”

“We take care of each other.”

**Author's Note:**

> Credit: The idea of James not telling Mac what he wanted but making Mac figure it out through trial and error is hinted at in dickgrysvn's wonderful [**Stablehands + Stable Homes**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17294171) and also beautifully expressed in CatWingsAthena's fascinating [**Muscle Memory**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18950284).
> 
> [ **This**](https://snuggables.net/collections/best-selling-warm-buddy-products/products/plush-stuffed-microwavable-labrador-puppy-dog) was the inspiration for JJ.


End file.
